Enchanter's End Game

the matter?" Belgarath whispered.
    "I forgot to stop for my knife," Silk replied, grating his teeth together. "It's one of my favorites."
    "What now, Grandfather?" Garion asked, his whisper hoarse.
    "Just beyond this door, there's a flight of stairs leading down."
    "What's at the bottom?"
    "A cellar. It's a sort of tomb where Zedar's got Torak's body. Shall we go down?"
    Garion sighed, then squared his shoulders. "I guess that's what we came for," he replied.

Chapter Twenty-two
    "YOU DON'T ACTUALLY believe I'll accept that, do you, Zedar?" Garion froze in the act of putting his hand on the iron door at the foot of the stairs."You can't evade your responsibility with the pretence of necessity," the voice beyond the door continued.
    "Aren't we all driven by necessity, Polgara?" a stranger's voice replied with a kind of weary sadness. "I won't say that I was blameless, but wasn't my apostacy predestined? The universe has been divided against itself since the beginning of time, and now the two Prophecies rush toward each other for their final meeting when all will be resolved. Who can say that what I have done was not essential to that meeting?"
    "That's an evasion, Zedar," Aunt Pol told him.
    "What's she doing here?" Garion whispered to Belgarath.
    "She's supposed to be here," Belgarath whispered back with an odd note of satisfaction. "Listen."
    "I don't think we'll gain anything by wrangling with each other, Polgara," Zedar the Apostate was saying. "We each believe that what we did was right. Neither of us could ever persuade the other to change sides at this point. Why don't we just let it go at that?"
    "Very well, Zedar," Aunt Pol replied coolly.
    "What now?" Silk breathed.
    "There should be others in there, too," Belgarath answered softly. "Let's make sure before we go bursting in."
    The iron door in front of them did not fit tightly, and faint light seeped through the cracks around the frame. Garion could make out Belgarath's intent face in that dim light.
    "How's your father?" Zedar asked in a neutral tone.
    "About the same as always. He's very angry with you, you know."
    "That was to be expected, I suppose."
    "He's finished eating, Lady Polgara," Garion heard Ce'Nedra say. He looked sharply at Belgarath, but the old man put one finger to his lips.
    "Spread one of those pallets out for him, dear," Aunt Pol instructed, "and cover him with some blankets. It's very late, and he's sleepy."
    "I'll do that," Durnik offered.
    "Good," Belgarath breathed. "They're all here."
    "How did they get here?" Silk whispered.
    "I haven't the faintest idea, and I'm not going to worry about it. The important thing is that they're here."
    "I'm glad you were able to rescue him from Ctuchik," Zedar said. "I grew rather fond of him during the years we spent together."
    "Where did you find him?" Aunt Pol asked. "We've never been able to pin down what country he's from."
    "I forgot precisely," Zedar answered, and his voice was faintly troubled. "Perhaps it was Camaar or Tol Honeth or maybe some city on the other side of Mallorea. The details keep slipping away from me almost as if I weren't supposed to examine them too closely."
    "Try to remember," she said. "It might be important."
    Zedar sighed. "If it amuses you," he said. He paused as if thinking. "I'd grown restless for some reason," he began. "It was - oh, fifty or sixty years ago. My studies no longer interested me, and the bickering of the various Grolim factions began to irritate me. I took to wandering about - not really paying much attention to where I was. I must have crossed and crisscrossed the Kingdoms of the West and the Angarak Kingdoms a half dozen times in those years.
    "Anyway, I was passing through some city somewhere when the idea struck me all at once. We all know that the Orb will destroy anyone who touches it with the slightest trace of evil in his heart, but what would it do to someone who touched it in total innocence? I was stunned by the simplicity of the idea. The street I was on was full of people, and I needed quiet to consider this remarkable idea, so I turned a corner into some forgotten alley, and there the child was - almost as if he'd been waiting for me. He seemed to be about two years old at the time - old enough to walk and not much more. I held out my hand to him and said, 'I have a little errand for you, my boy.' He came to me and repeated the word, 'Errand.' It's the only word I've ever heard him say."
    "What did the Orb do when he first touched